


Swept Away, I'm Stolen

by Emma_of_the_Tardis



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: 00Q - Freeform, AU, Bondlock, Bondlock AU, James as Moran, M/M, Q as Moriarty, Very brief sex (like two sentences)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-05
Updated: 2013-03-05
Packaged: 2017-12-04 10:19:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 22
Words: 6,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/709655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emma_of_the_Tardis/pseuds/Emma_of_the_Tardis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Sherlock comes back, he's annoyed with the details of what happened on the roof. He searches and realizes that Q is the real Moriarty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Realizations

**Author's Note:**

> Title credit: Skyfall by Adele. I cannot claim this idea was totally my own, as I saw somewhere on Tumblr someone suggest that Q and James could fit these parts.

There was something about the moment when it all clicked that Sherlock was addicted to. Yet, this time, the thrill was gone. In its place, a dread filled him. All the little pieces fit together, forming a puzzle that terrified him. 

George. Or, as he liked to be called now, Q. 

 

For weeks, Sherlock had been bothered by Moriarty. Why did he kill himself so readily? It didn't make any sense. Sherlock followed the nagging voice in his head and asked Mycroft for all the files on Richard Brook. 

He and John sat at the table, pouring over everything. There were too many details for it all to be a fake identity. Marriage, a messy affair with court records, a child of an affair with a high socialite, even a will. There was simply too much. 

John had just refilled the tea when he noticed something. The child, a girl name Elizabeth, was alive. Birth records and pictures proved her existence. Her mother was 'on holiday' for several months in America, starting right around when she'd show. In Brook's will, he left her to his sister. 

Mycroft, if nothing else, was thorough. He had sent any file to do with Brook over -- including his family. Sherlock found her bank records and the day after Moriarty's death, she received 10,000£. One month later, another 10,000. Every month since that date, 10,000£ was added to her account. 

That's when it clicked. 

 

"Sherlock?" 

He looked up to see John standing over him with a cup of tea. 

"I don't need tea."

"Fine. What you need to do is explain yourself. You looked at the bank records and haven't said a word since. I saw the ten thous-”

Sitting up, Sherlock motioned for John to stop. He needed to tread carefully. If Q had any bugs, which was always possible, they couldn't talk. They needed somewhere safe. Only one place would be bug free. 

"Text Lestrade. See where he is."

"You know where he is."

"Tell him we're coming over. And say no more."

 

Greg opened the door, looking a bit confused. Mycroft stood behind him, trying to read Sherlock or John. 

"What are you doing, dearest brother?"

"I needed somewhere where no one could hear us."

Mycroft nodded and led them towards a sitting room. He sat down and looked at Sherlock expectantly. "Why on earth would you need to hide?"

"It's about Q."


	2. Oh, Brother

John had never seen Mycroft look surprised. Annoyed, impatient, but never surprised. It scared him. 

"Please, he has a proper name. Don't give into his childish desire for a nickname."

"Unfortunately, he has another name for us to call him."

"Pray tell, my brother, what else does he want us to call him?"

"Moriarty."

 

The day Sherlock came back to life was perhaps the best day of John's life. Soon after, that title might have gone to their first kiss. Sherlock was back, safe. He had taken to sleeping in John's bed. Whenever he woke up, he'd have to pinch himself to make sure he really was sleeping next to Sherlock. That this was real. 

Things were workings out. Greg and Mycroft finally moved in together, after two years of dating and Greg practically living there. Sherlock and John were working on cases. John couldn't remember a time when he was happier. 

 

That name struck terror in his heart. He reached for Sherlock, needing to make sure he was okay. Holding his hand, John quietly asked, "What do you mean, Moriarty? He's dead. He killed himself."

"Richard Brook did. Not Moriarty."

"What?" Gregg and John exclaimed in unison. 

Mycroft appeared to be thinking. "How can George be Moriarty?"

"His daughter. The aunt taking care of sweet Lizzie is getting money every month. Look at his financial records. He was thousands in debt and Lizzie's mother was beginning a court case against him to get her daughter back. Four years ago, the mother tragically died while texting and driving. Right before we meet, Brook paid off all his debts."

"George approached him, asking him to be the physical manifestation of him, didn't he? He always looked a bit like you, so when Brook tried to sell the story for money, he could think it was you."

"Q probably drugged him. He had an interest in memory drugs."

It went like that, Mycroft and Sherlock explaining the story. It made sense. This George, Q, whatever, was the really Moriarty. He had Brook be him. Enough experimental drugs probably had the poor guy thinking he was the real Moriarty. 

 

"There's one thing I don't get, though," John said, when there was a pause. "Who is this guy?"

"He's our half brother," Mycroft said.


	3. Memories

He were ten when they found out about George. Mycroft was teaching him how to open a safe. They used their father's safe as practice. He'd been dead for years and their mother wouldn't dare step into his office. The dust kept making Sherlock sneeze. 

It had taken a bit, but Sherlock finally cracked it. Mycroft proudly hugged his brother. Being curious boys, they looked inside. They found something they wish they hadn't. 

Files filled with documents about a George Oswald Davis, born to a Ms. Davis and a Mr. Holmes. He had no visiting rights, but supported the child financially, it appeared from the documents. 

There was a third Holmes. Was he as smart as the other two? 

 

The safe had the school records, so they the only logical thing. They went to see him. They watched as he was bullied on the playground. Both felt the urge to help the poor kid. He was family, after all. 

Sherlock was young enough to be able to sneak in. 

"Hey, George."

The kid looked up. His hair was like Sherlock's and his eyes reminded him of Mycroft. Sherlock was only ten, but he noticed enough. His brother needed help. 

"Who are you?" George asked. 

"I'm your half brother. Sherlock Holmes, at your service!" Holding out his hand, Sherlock gave a big smile. The boy just glared. 

"My father was an arse. Why should I trust his offspring?"

"Because we have an older brother who can get rid of those bullies." 

 

A slow friendship built. They were somewhat bound by blood. Sherlock liked having a younger brother who looked up to him. It was nice. Until his mother found out. 

"Your father was not a good man, but I did love him. For a little while, at least. That Davis woman is insane. Her son will likely be just as crazy. You stay away from him, Sherlock."

No threat was needed.


	4. Action, or Lack of

John listened in awe. As soon as Mycroft was in the government, he made sure George was taken care of. Only a few years ago, he got George a job in MI6. He quickly worked his way up to Quartermaster, hence the name of Q. 

Mycroft did most of the talking. Last year, the whole exploding building and attack in court had something to do with Q, but most of it was classified. John gathered that the third Holmes brother was just as smart. 

"He doesn't like being involved with us, but he does find us rather useful at times. I try to not pay an inordinate time to what he does. We do know he was romantically involved with an agent. This agent could have been on of the snipers on the roof the day Sherlock 'died.'" 

They sat quietly for a moment. John realized he was still holding Sherlock's hand. He gave it a squeeze. Any mention of that date brought terrible memories for both of them. 

"So, what do we do?" Greg asked.

"Nothing," Sherlock replied.


	5. Tiger

Finger on the trigger, he watched. The two men talked, shook hands, and suddenly one was dead. James blinked, his only visible reaction. The other man paced and jumped. Success. One down, one to go.

 

James woke with a start. He didn't like to think that his dreams told him anything, but it was the third time this week he'd dreamed of that day. It bothered him. Rarely did James even dream. He crawled out of bed. 

After a quick shower, he returned to find Q sprawled out on their bed. Their bed. Sometimes James wondered what happened to the part of him that dread commitment, that wanted a new woman every week, that didn't like men. Yet, somehow James loved his messed up Quartermaster. 

"Tiger, why are you up so early?" Q mumbled, not even opening his eyes. 

"I'll tell you if you stop calling me 'tiger,' Q," James replied. Q for some reason, hated calling James anything but 'tiger' at home. Once, he claimed it was because he had to hear James fuck others on missions. 

"But tiger, how am I supposed to remember that it was I, a humble Quartermaster of the male sex, who would finally _twist the sinews of thy heart?_ While you're up, make some tea, please. And don't forget your pill!" James sometimes questions how such a man as himself would ever dare think he loved another, especially a fellow man. Not that James had never been with a guy before (a mission's a mission), but love? 

James grumbled, but he did go to the kitchen to make some tea. Waiting for the water, he opened the cabinet to reveal his pills. Somewhere over-the-counter ones, some were ones MI6 wanted him to take to refuel his body faster, and then there was one other bottle. It had no label on it. Inside were large, pink capsules. 

After that first mission, Q approached James with these pills. They made him recover faster and keep his body from aging too quickly. However, they hadn't been tested in humans. James decided he would try them. They worked. Soon after, he had started to like Q. Q had order him to continue to take the pills, even on missions. It was odd, but James accepted it. 

He returned to the bedroom with the two cups in hand. "Here."

Q was no longer on the bed, but on the computer. He was typing in a furious manner. James tried to look on the screen, but Q shut it before he could see. 

"Goddammit! Sherlock is fucking alive. Alive!"

James couldn't believe it. Q hardly ever swore. It had to be serious. 

"What do you mean alive?"

"Are you an idiot? He's alive! Breathing! In 221B Baker Street! I was going to check to see if John had finally killed himself yet when I saw it. Sherlock is alive."

"He jumped. You saw that in the cameras, I saw him die. I still don't understand why you wanted the guy dead."

"Tiger, you don't understand anything beyond fucking and love for country, do you? Well, some of us feel more than desire and pride! Some of us are geniuses who owe a great deal of debt to our brothers! A debt that can only be paid in blood!" Q shouted. James was scared. Q never was like this, arms waving and so insulting. Q had never said the guy was his brother. 

"Q, calm down. I can kill the guy if you want. It's easy," James sometimes wondered what ever happened to him that he could calmly discuss the taking of a life. Shouldn't he have morals or a conscience or something? 

"I want him destroyed, not dead, you idiot."

"Who else knows he's alive? No one. He's still disgraced. If he kill him now--”

"I noticed that he and his doctor were getting quite close. Perhaps he needs to be reminded that I have the power. Perhaps, if his little friend were gone..." Q trailed off, thinking. He stood up and started to pace. He kept muttering things that James could hardly hear. All he could understand was that Sherlock was to regret ever coming back to life.


	6. Why

"We need to do something, Sherlock. We can't let him continue! What if he goes after you again? I barely survived you dying once. I couldn't if you died again," John told Sherlock. 

Sherlock shook his head. "He'll know I'm alive. There isn't a place it the world I'm safe. All I can do is hope he'll leave me alone."

"What about with us?" Greg asked, looking at Mycroft for permission. 

Sherlock gave a little laugh. "Even if this were safe enough, I'd rather take my chances with Q."

John sighed. What could they do? Sherlock needed to stay safe. They'd have to go after Q. He started to speak, but Mycroft cut him off. "As John just realized, we have to hunt him down. It is of the utmost importance."

"He'd notice. As soon as he knows I'm alive, he'll go rogue."

"And then we'll have an even better reason to hunt him down."

"He's too clever."

"No one's cleverer than you!" Greg and John both said. They glanced at each other and laughed a little. 

Mycroft shook his head. "We are rather clever, but not in the way he is. George is a genius with computers. He could probably take down the whole government with a few clicks."

"So why's he alive? If he's such a danger?" Greg asked. John was glad Greg asked it. He was wondering too, but it seemed rude to ask.

"He's our brother and so far he has been good."

"That seems so risky.”

Mycroft didn't have an answer to that. He sat back. Greg looked to John, who could only shrug his shoulders. If Q was such a genius who could easily take down the government, why didn't he? And why hadn't Mycroft have him held in a cell or something? Clearly, letting him run around free had been bad. 

"But why does he want to hurt you?"


	7. But Why

"I've told you that, tiger!"

"No, you haven't. You've said there is a debt you owe them, but that's hardly something to destroy them over."

"Oh, what do you know? I should call you 'buffoon,' not tiger. My life was fine before they showed up. Then they went and fucked it up. Instead of me being a genius kid who became an evil genius, I was now under the watchful eyes of the government. I had to keep ties with them. Why the hell did they come and meet me once they found out about me?" Q angrily replied. Then, almost too quiet for him to hear, Q added, "And why did they kill him?"

James didn't understand. "Isn't it good you didn't become evil?"

"Tiger, are you really so blind? You know that Moriarty guy who shot himself on the roof the day Sherlock jumped?"

"Of course."

"Do you remember his crimes?"

"Sherlock said he was like a spider, knowing all the webs, and being able to pull them to do whatever he wanted. Or something like that."

"Would you like it meet the really Moriarty?"

"He's not dead either? I saw the bullet and blood. That guy is dead."

"The one on the rooftop is dead. However, he was nothing more than an actor hired for a role."

"We need to take him down. He poses too great a threat to the country to let him continue."

"Then shoot me."

"What?"

"You really are stupid, aren't you? I am Moriarty, tiger."


	8. Protection

Mycroft cleared his throat. "When George was in college, he was roommates with an Allwright. They were a good family. I was even friends with one of the older brothers. It was discovered that this Allwright was using George's computer to hack into secure files and was selling them to our enemies. Once it was noted, Allwright was taken out."

"Q was dating Allwright," Sherlock added. "He blames us for Allwright's death. Though neither of us knew of their relationship, he thinks we should have and we should have stopped his death."

"So, let me see if I got this right. You two have a half-brother who is just as smart you. He blames you for his lover's death. He could easily take down the government, but you let him work for it? And now he's gone evil?" John couldn't believe. It seemed so stupid that Mycroft would let Q do any of this. 

"That does seem to be the scenario, Doctor Watson."

 

"Don't worry John. I'll be fine. I have you to protect me," Sherlock said, moving closer to John. They were in bed. John had his arm protectively around Sherlock, who was on his chest. 

"I can never lose you again."

"I never want to be lost from you, John," Sherlock mumbled, before drifting off to sleep. It was perhaps a blessing Sherlock actually was sleeping. John couldn't move much or make noise. Usually this situation was reversed, but Sherlock had finally given into his human needs. 

John worried about what he could do to protect Sherlock. Sure, he had a gun and would die to save him, but what could he do that Mycroft couldn't? How could he ever save him?


	9. Tea and Questions

James woke up to smell of tea. He opened his eyes to see a cup next to their bed with his pill. Reaching for it, he sat up and looked around. Q wa turned to face him from his computer. 

"I'm sorry, tiger, about yesterday. I was rude. You know I need you, right?"

James just nodded, as he was swallowing his pill. 

"And, if it's not too much to ask, would you mind helping me?"

"With what?"

"I need you to pick up Watson and Lestrade."

 

There were things that were normal if one wanted to be careful. Different cars, different drivers, no routine were all expected. It was suppose to make it safer for Lestrade to be picked up from whenever he got off work. Yet, it just made things easier for James to nab him. 

 

Lestrade looked around, before seeing the black car. One habit Mycroft did have was sending dark color cars. He opened the door and slide in. No questions to make sure this was the car he was suppose to get into or anything. Not that the driver of the other car would have been able to answer the questions at the moment. 

 

As they drove, Lestrade pulled out his phone. Worried that it could be to Mycroft, James pulled into an alley. He grabbed the phone out of Lestrade's hand. "Let's make this very clear, Lestrade. You aren't to call, text, email, or communicate while you're our prisoner."

The man looked surprisingly calm. Probably not the first time he'd been kidnapped, James realized. "Who are you?"

"Moran. Sebastian Moran. I work for Mr. Moriarty," James replied. He would never use any of his real aliases, of course. In Moran Town, India, he had chased after a tiger than was hunting down humans. Sebastian was after the saint. He had to be killed twice, after hundreds of arrows failed to kill him the first time. Q loved the Moran part, just for the tiger. 

"I believe you mean George, not Moriarty." 

"What?”

"I'm not a Holmes, but I'm not a blubbering idiot. Moriarty is really George Davis," Lestrade explained, almost with a sigh. "If you kill me, just give me a chance for some decent last words. I'd hate for them to be something shitty."

James raised his eyebrows. He was surprised that Lestrade was so calm, even discussing his death. But that was less important than the name. Q hadn't told James his name. Said it wasn't important, that it was irrelevant to whom he was now. George Davis. James locked that name into his head. 

"Of course, Lestrade."

"Call me Greg, please. And thank you. Last time I was 'napped, the guy tried to kill me right away, before I said a word. 'I'll bring the doughnuts tomorrow' would have been terrible last words. So, can we talk, or is this strictly business? And I assume my death is involved in all this, Mr. Moran?” 

"If you're Greg, call me Seb. You can talk all you want. Maybe if you talk enough, Moriarty will set you free."

"I doubt it. I'm Mycroft's lover. This is just revenge for a stunt years ago." Greg started to talk about how stressful his day at work was and who'd take over for him. James didn't listen. He didn't care. How did this man know Q's real name?


	10. Gone

"John. Greg's gone."

"What?"

"Get your arse over here now. Leave Sherlock sleeping," Mycroft ordered, hanging up. John looked at his phone. It was four in the morning. At least he got a little sleep. He slowly untangled himself from Sherlock and wrote a quick note, before sneaking out the door. 

He was going to hail a taxi, but a black car pulled up. Mycroft probably forgot to tell him that he sent a car. If Greg was really gone, he was likely to forgot. He had even sworn, after all. Clearly, Mycroft was not in his normal mind set. John was about to wonder why Sherlock was to be left (does he need comfort from me? Why only me?) when he heard the doors on the car lock. 

"Early morning there, Doctor Watson," the driver said. John looked at the face. He didn't know it. Great, he had enemies he didn't know. 

"Do I even want to know what this is about, Mister...?" 

"Funny. You and Greg both are very calm. Sebastian Moran, not at your service."

"You're the bastard that took Greg?" John's mind was whirling. Yes, he appeared calm. But he was trying to figure out the likelihood of various escape methods. The sooner he got out, the better. He started to slowly unlock the car door, while keeping his eyes on the man. 

"They say 'hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.' I like to think hell hath no fury like a Moriarty scorned."

"Oh, you mean Davis?" John watched as the man gave a little jump. Clearly, he wasn't expecting for John to know that. If George, Q, Moriarty, knew that they knew who he was, it could only work in their favor. 

"Once again, the doctor and the inspector act just alike. I can see why the Holmes brothers chose you two as lovers."

"Then surely you must be the third brother's lover?" John wasn't as quick as Sherlock or Mycroft, but it made sense. This could be that agent and Q would have to send a very trusted person to get his two most precious items. 

"Now, John -- if I may call you that -- don't get out of the car too early. Child-proof locks. Can only open from the outside. But yes, I am his lover." 

"All three in relationships with men. I wonder what the odds of that are," John asked, trying to keep the conversation light. Who knew what this man, Moran, was up to 

"At least for me, I never was attracted to men. In anyway. But then I found Q and he started to help me recover with the pills and then I fell for him," the man replied. 

John wondered why he was being told this, but maybe he was just lonely. "I had found men attractive, but I never thought anything of it. Then I found Sherlock and he was just right for me, you know?" 

"No, not really. Q is an utter arse to me. I'll never get why he, of all people, was the one to get me to fall in love with. I was a womanizer. Now they hardly interest me. Only Q. It has to be love, doesn't it?"

"No, not at all. I still see people are attractive, I just don't want them. I have Sherlock. And, sorry, but I'm a doctor. What did you mean that he helped you with pills?"

"Oh, they're nothing. Q makes them for me, special. They help me recover faster and such. Quite soon after starting them, I fell for him," Moran said, simply. John didn't like that. If this man was such a womanizer and now he didn't even see them as attractive... Something seemed off about it. But what?


	11. Action

"Lovely job, tiger!" Q smiled, walking around the two men tied to chairs. James flashed a smile. Inside, he was beating himself up. Why did he talk to John -- Watson -- about Q? He should have been more controlled. More himself. But he wasn't himself lately.   
  
James was really starting to question his feelings. From what he knew, it wasn't like there was a switch that would suddenly turn him gay. Not that there was anything wrong with it (hell, he was gay, wasn't he?), but this wasn't him. He liked women and ones that he didn't fall in love with. A one night stand was always the best. How could he change so suddenly?   
  
Every time they fucked, it felt like it did when he was on a mission. Nothing different. Shouldn't sex be different with someone you care about? Instead, James felt like he was just trying to get through it. That was surely wrong.   
  
It was like he just swallowed a pill and suddenly was in love. Wait, Q was excellent at those pills that could change a person. It happened to the other Moriarty. He'd done it for work. But he couldn't do to James, could he? To his tiger?   
  
Something was nagging in his mind, telling him it had to be true. Why did he need to take the pill every day? What else was it doing to his mind?   
  
_I have to test this. No pills for three days. That oughta be enough time._ **  
**


	12. Gone Again

Sherlock woke to Mycroft shaking him. 

"They're gone, Sherlock. Gone." Sherlock had never heard this voice before. It was full of grief. 

"Who?" 

"Greg and John. I can't find them." 

Sherlock jumped up. John wasn't under him anymore and he had to be there. He noticed a note in the dresser. He read it to Mycroft, "'Sherlock, going to help Mycroft find Greg. Be back soon. Love, John.' What did you do to him? Is this a code? Was he made to write this?"

"No, I called him last night for his help finding Greg. After a while, I started to wonder where he was. I tried calling his phone and it was off. I checked the cameras outside and he wasn't here. Checking the camera's records, he left minutes after I called him. Only he got in a car, not a taxi. Same car that Greg got into yesterday. His phone's off. I don't know where they are."

"Where did the cars go? You followed them with cameras, right?" 

"Of course. You know as well as I do this is what George wants. He wants us. The only way we can maybe save them is if we go, alone. He'd kill them if I sent in a team."

Sherlock nodded. He grabbed a shirt, tourers, and followed Mycroft out. Sherlock started to go to the back of the car, but Mycroft said he was driving. They drove in silence, both trying to figure out what to do.


	13. Tea Again

James watched as the car pulled up. It had taken less than four hours for them to come. He watched as they both got out of the car and walked up to the building. He listened as they slowly worked their way up the metal stairs and then the silence once the annoying clanging was done. The creak of the door alerted him to their presence.   
  
"Good morning, Mr. Holmes and Mr. Holmes."  
  
"Good morning, Mister...?" asked the elder brother.   
  
"May we please do away with these pleasantries? We all know he'll just give us a fake name." **  
  
**"Ah, you may be right, Mr. Holmes, but my employer would like this rather dubious event to be as proper as possible. He's even supplied breakfast as we discuss the furture," James pointed to the set table with tea. "I am Sebastian Moran." He was the image of a perfect gentleman in a suit. Mycroft also fit the part. Sherlock was in wrinkled black trousers and a purple shirt, a size smaller than it should be. "Shall we sit?"  
  
"No. We are going to discuss--"  
  
"Please ignore my brother. He's rather unused to this sorts of situations."  
  
"I understand." James mind was reeling. Sherlock was smart. He was good at manipulating people. Why wasn't he playing along? He wasn't his normal critical self. Was it because of John being taken away?   
  
The trio sat down at the table. It was out of place. They were in an old warehouse, the manager's office. The walls covered with scraps of paper, plan for the failed business.   
  
James waited for both to take some tea. He pour himself a cup from the same pot and drank a sip. It might be reassuring to them, but James wouldn't trust the tea still. There could have been a powder in the cups or he could have taken an antidote for a poison already. But the brothers trusted him and drank from their cups.   
  
"My employer--"  
  
"Our brother, you mean?" Sherlock asked.  
  
"Half-brother, but yes. That's actually part of his first demands. He wants you to add him to the Holmes family fortune. He doesn't want much. It can still be divided among three. The three sons."  
  
"That will take some time."  
  
"We know." Just then James's phone vibrated. It was a call from Q. "I beg your pardon."  
  
 _"Put Mycroft on the phone. Greg has something to say."_ ****  



	14. Goodbye Greg

Mycroft took the phone with dread. "Yes?"  
  
 _"Mycroft?"_  
  
"Greg?"  
  
 _"Yeah, it's me. I just wanted to let know you that I love you, no matter what happens. Also, I never could regret being with you. I know you're beating yourself up over this, but... If we don’t get out of this, just remember I love you."_  
  
"Don't say things like that. We'll get you."  
  
 _"Say you love me too, just in case."_  
  
"But--"  
  
 _"Say it!"_  
  
"Gregory Lestrade, you are the bravest, craziest man I have ever had the pleasure of knowing and the only one I've had the true pleasure of loving. You are the best thing that has happened to me and I love you."  
  
 _"Say, big brother, could you hand the phone over to Sherly?"_


	15. Not Goodbye

"John?"  
  
 _"Yeah, Sherlock?"_  
  
"Are you okay?"  
  
 _"Yeah, we're good. The food's not the best, but it's better than Afghanistan."_  
  
Sherlock gave a weak little laugh. "You know I'm going to get you, right?"  
  
 _"Of course. I've been listening for 'Vatican cameos!' since this happened."_  
  
"And you know I love--"  
  
 _"Sherlock, this isn't goodbye. Don't say things just because you think I might die. We've been in worse situations, haven't we?"_  
  
"John--”  
  
 _"And that's a wrap folks!"_


	16. Hope

“Why didn't you say goodbye to him?” Greg asked.

They hadn't really been talking for the past two or three days. It was hard to judge how much time had gone by. They were getting food at random intervals and their hands were tied behind their backs, so John couldn't look at his watch. The room they were in was small, white, and bare. 

“He’ll do better if he thinks I have hope still.”

“Do you still have hope?”

“No.”


	17. Chaos

“Oh, tiger, you are exquisite,” Q moaned, as James was sucking his cock. James glanced up, in what he hoped was a loving look. Q soon came, turned over, and fell asleep. 

James tiptoed out of the room. He poured himself a drink and sat on the couch. He took a sip, and went to set down his drink, but realized that his hand was shaking. If that wasn’t proof enough that he was being fucked with, he didn’t know what was. 

Three days, no pills. His mind was turning on him, his body aching. One moment he was hopelessly in love with Q, wanting to just get on his knees and serve, the next, he wanted to smack the insolent brat. 

Something was going on and James blamed the pills. They were what was causing his mental chaos. He needed to stop it. 

He stood up and opened a door. His trusty gun was still there. Good.


	18. Action Again

Sherlock grasped the handle of the case. It contained the documents signifying George’s addition to the inheritance. If that didn’t save John, he wasn’t sure what would. Personally, Sherlock didn’t care about the money, but what it showed. George was a bully, a kidnapper, a murder, a chaos-causer. 

Mycroft turned the car off. They were outside a house. The previous night they had gotten a text with this address. 

He gripped the case harder, trying to find some comfort in it. John believed he could and would save him. Sherlock kept that thought in his mind, keeping him from just giving up. John believed in him. Always had. 

“Hello, brothers. Won’t you come in?” said George, from the doorway. Sherlock had a sudden desire for a gun, but Mycroft wouldn’t let him bring one. 

“Coming, dear brother,” Mycroft replied. Why was he always so polite? 

The house was oddly welcoming and warm. It did nothing to help Sherlock’s nerves. 

“Here. Take. Where are they?” Sherlock managed to say without too much venom. 

“Tut-tut, has Mycroft taught you nothing? We must discuss this before --”

“Oh, shut the fuck up. You got what you fucking wanted, give them John and Lestrade back!” James said, standing up. He had been sitting in a chair in the corner, nothing of note. But now he was making his presence known. 

“Tiger, sit back down and look pretty. Leave this up to the big boys.” 

 

“Oh, be glad I’m using this,” James said, taking out his gun. 

“Tiger!”

“I AM NOT YOUR TIGER. You fucked with me! You gave me this fucking pills to make me fall for you! You’re fucking insane. Now, you sit the fuck down while we go get the men.”

George sat down, his face blank. 

Sherlock raised his eyebrow at Mycroft. What was going on?


	19. Reunion

John heard the door opening. Must be food time. He didn’t even look up, until his head was being lifted and then his lips being kissed. His eyes met the most wonderful sight he’d ever seen, Sherlock’s eyes. 

Sherlock went behind him and untied his hands. Mycroft was doing the same to Greg. Moran stood at the door. “What?”

“We’re here. We’ve come to get you.”

John slowly stood up, before falling into Sherlock. His muscles seized, from lack of use. “I got you.”

“Hurry up. I don’t want him to try anything clever,” Moran said. 

“Why are you helping us?” John asked, leaning more into Sherlock. 

Moran shrugged his shoulders. “You helped me realize what Q was doing and he shouldn’t have come after you.” 

John started to nudge Sherlock towards the door, but he heard a gun cock. “DUCK!”


	20. Sorry Tiger

James heard the cock and John’s scream and listened. He ducked and turned towards the sound. Q stood there, with another of James’s guns. He cocked it again and pointed it at James’s head. “Sorry tiger. You were a bad boy and escaped. You know what they do to escaped tigers?”

For a moment, James’s mind was full of love for Q. He had a gun, but couldn’t shoot it. He knew he couldn’t do it, but he also knew that Q needed to be stopped. He slide the gun towards John. 

He looked into Q’s eyes. If this was the end, he would greet it. He wouldn’t hid from it. He watched Q aim the gun at his head. He heard the shot. He felt no pain.


	21. Regret

John saw the gun and acted. He grabbed it and aimed it at George. 

“How could you do that?”

George was staring at his hand and slowly his eyes moved to the body. He looked at John and knelt down, cradling Moran’s head in his lap. He kissed the dead man’s lips, whispering something John couldn’t hear. Then, a little louder, George ordered, “Shoot me.”

Listening, John aimed the gun and shot.


	22. This Is the End

“The leg? Why didn’t you just kill him?” Sherlock asked, as George was being loaded into the ambulance. 

“He deserves whatever the law decides. I’m no judge,” John said, pulling the shock blanket around him more. Greg and Mycroft were being interviewed by some officers. “That must be surreal for Greg.”

Sherlock nodded. “I’m just glad you’re safe.”

“I’m pretty happy about that too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading my fic! Hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
